


How to Make Friends with the Dark

by stonewaiis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, Angsty later on, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Werewolf Remus Lupin, he becomes a dark arts major, slowburn, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonewaiis/pseuds/stonewaiis
Summary: For six years, Remus Lupin thought the furthest he'd ever leave his house would be the pathway through the orchard at the end of the garden. When his letter from Hogwarts comes, and a certain headmaster visits, he begins to think that he finally might get a chance to prove he's more than anyone expected he could be. Of course, if a trio of rambunctuous mischief makers don't take him down with them.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew/Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 5





	How to Make Friends with the Dark

Lupin Lodge, as it was so cleverly named, was an ashen brick cottage tucked neatly into the rural idyllic corners of North Yorkshire. It wasn’t small, per-say, with a roaring garden and comfortably sized rooms, but it wasn’t naturally appealing to anyone middle class or above. With its cozy kitchen space and boxy two bedroom living spaces, it was tranquil and quiet. Out of the way of the nearing village of Staveley, the Lodge also offered a bustling back garden that opened up onto miles of forest, and was hidden away down a private pathway overarched with apple trees. 

It wasn’t much, but in the eyes of a small Remus John Lupin, it was everything a home should be. He was always comfortable growing up there, and however much he longed to be closer to the city purely so he could socialise with his own aged peers, he wouldn’t have actually wanted to grow up anywhere else. Because of this, when he reached age eleven and had multiple school offerings, plenty of them boarding schools, he was stuck on what to do.

For a whole six years, Remus had been suffering a Lycanthropy condition. Immediately after the attack, his father pulled him out of the bleak few years of education he’d had, and tried his own best attempt at homeschooling. School had never been much of an option for Remus, and he knew that it most likely never would be. It was, however, an excuse to cover up the deep set anxiety he felt at the idea of ever leaving the Lodge. 

The day his specialised letter from Hogwarts came, he thought maybe he’d have a better chance than he’d ever previously thought. His father had immediately shut the idea down, similarly to how he had with the copious amounts of secondary academies and boarding schools that had sent letters. Growing up mostly alone with no mother and a work absent father, Remus had taught himself for many years. But unlike other young children, he had the motivation of always feeling like a burden to get him through child-like distraction, and quickly became an incredibly intelligent young boy. That was picked up on quickly by schools in his area, and spread around to the formerly mentioned academies. 

Lyall Lupin wrote back to Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with a very formal apology note stating he couldn’t bare to let his son out of his sight due to an unnamed illness he didn’t feel comfortable sharing. A week later, when Remus was in the attic after a particularly harsh full moon reading a book detailing the offhand results of transfiguration, he answered the sharp knocking on Number One, Lupin Lodge’s door to Albus Dumbledore himself. 

He was not just shocked, but also slightly terrified. Due to being out of the way for the rest of Staveley, and having many protective charms, Remus was often comfortably left alone when his father was at the Ministry. He also often had to answer the door for post, so on this specific day, he thought it was just going to once again be the very familiar postman who’d been delivering to the Lodge for as long as he could remember, and didn’t really question how Remus was regularly wrapped up in bandages. 

Albus Dumbledore was a surprise. Remus felt shocked, at first, and then worried, because they didn’t get strangers on the doorstep of the Lodge very often. Upon introducing himself, Remus only became more shocked. He wasn’t sure what the polite thing to do was, so he invited Albus inside, because he was a foolish eleven year old boy, even if the man meant no harm.

He felt shy under the wise gaze. Not just shy, but also scrutinised, despite the fact Albus’ eyes never once left his, and never once strayed to the copious amounts of scars and deep wounds visible on Remus’ arms. For a while, they didn’t speak about much. Albus talked about how he understood that Remus was already a very achieved young boy, in both muggle based studies and the more magical side of education. 

Without warning, he made Remus aware that he knew of his condition. Stunned to silence, Remus couldn’t get a single word out. He wasn’t registered as a werewolf, of course, he's not a complete idiot. But he also knew that his father wouldn’t tell another soul about him, not even the supposedly safest wizarding schools headmaster. But Dumbledore knew. 

Panic was all little Remus Lupin could feel. He didn’t dare show it, he didn’t even dare say a word despite the fact Albus had expectedly stopped talking, because his body was chilled from skin to bone, and his heart had frosted over in pure terror.

Werewolves were not liked, by almost anyone, even those with the most golden hearts. And yet there Remus Lupin was, a small eleven year old werewolf, one day recovered from the full moon, sat at a dinner table opposite possibly the most powerful wizard of his time. But Albus didn’t reach for his wand or mutter an unforgivable: he sat silently and waited for young Remus to calm down just enough. 

“Fear not, I didn’t travel this far to harm you. I came here to inquire further about my offer.” Dumbledore spoke slowly, as if he were worried he might startle the small tawny haired boy.

Remus blinked, his fingers anxiously digging into his palms. “About… about Hogwarts?” He questioned quietly, terrified to be too loud or step out of line. “It’s very generous of you, but I cant. My father doesn’t want me to leave, because of my sickness…” Even after being told to his face that his condition was known, Remus couldn’t bring himself to say it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever once said it in his life, or that he’d ever be able to.

“I’m aware of these circumstances, but Hogwarts can offer more safety than you can imagine.”

— 

One month and three days after Albus Dumbledore sat in his kitchen, Remus Lupin was nervously pushing a trolley cart with a battered trunk and a shiny metal cage through the busy crowds that filled Kings Cross station. His father was at his side, speaking quickly and constantly in mumbles, tone filled with worry and shaking the more they neared the brick separating Platforms Nine and Ten. The small, soft feathered barn owl in the cage on Remus’ trolley gave a meagre attempt at a hoot as they stopped next the the curved wall of brick. 

Lyall rested a hand on his sons shoulder, and smiled down at him with a half hearted expression. Remus knew something was off, but he couldn’t place quite what it was, and he didn’t want to further annoy his father, who’d already had to take the day off work to drive all the way to London and properly see his son off. His father wasn’t necessarily an always formal looking man, but he was more often than not dressed in a suit and acted very proper, the way you had to when you worked for the Ministry and spent more time at work than you ever had at home. Remus didn’t blame him: it was simply just odd to see such a formal man dressed in a mottled sweater, dark hair falling over his face rather than being pushed back as it normally was.

“Right. This will be weird, but its pretty fun. All you want to do is back up and run straight at that wall, its easier to do it in a run.” Lyall nodded towards the red brick, hazel eyes looking completely empty. Remus couldn’t place what was wrong. Why wasn’t he happy? Was he even sad? 

He didn’t fret on it, he didn’t really have time to. Checking that Archimedes, the runt of a barn owl, was secured to the trolley, Remus held his breath and quickened his pace, directing his trolley straight at the wall. Within a second, he’d passed through. 

The platform was teeming with young wizards and witches, parents fawning over them and checking they definitely had everything. Two seconds later, Remus’ own father was at his side, hand once again placed firmly on his shoulder, directing him a little way down the platform, dodging and weaving through the families. 

Their goodbye was brief. All of it felt so rushed to Remus, so wrapped up in his own head of anxieties and worries, that before he knew it he was leaning out the window of a Hogwarts Express compartment, a soft smile on his lips, hand outstretched to wave to his father on the platform. Thirty seconds later, they were departing from Kings Cross, and Remus’ life was beginning to change. 

When he settled back in his seat, his whole chest seized up with fear. He’d never been so far from home in his entire life, and he was only going further. The panic was all encompassing. He’d have no one now, he was starting from scratch. But for someone who’d grown up entirely in a cottage in Yorkshire with no company but his distant father, he wasn’t sure how likely it was that he’d even make his own friends, or if he’d have to suffer five years alone in academic wonderland but social abandon. 

As his fingers began to tremble, the compartment door slammed open. Tumbling in came a boy with jet black hair, curls of madness and glasses decorated in tape. He only seemed to notice Remus once he’d already closed the door, and laughed sheepishly, shaking his electrified hair out of his eyes. “Wotcher! Sorry to just burst in, stupid Malfoy's being an ass.” He collapsed into the seat opposite Remus, the sleeves of his sweater spilling over his hands. If Remus had to guess, he’d say they were in the same year. “I’m James Potter. Whats the book?”

Remus glanced down at the book that had been shoved under his arm, having been fully prepared to spend a train ride alone, nose buried in a book. He shimmied it out and turned it over in his hands, checking the title. He hadn’t specifically picked up any one, just selected a random book from the shopping list he and all other first years had received. “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.” He read aloud, tracing the leather and gold patterning on the cover. “Oh, um, I’m Remus. Lupin.” He stuttered, looking back up at the black haired boy opposite him.

James grinned, surprisingly. “Wicked! I got that one a few months ago, for classes of course, but also so I could read up on some a few useful charms.” Remus wondered if, like himself, Potter was perhaps academically inclined, and fascinated with doing as well in magic as he could, but the mischievous little grin that spread across the young boys face told enough to know that James didn’t read it for harmless research. Sitting with a future troublemaker may not have been a smart decision for him, considering he planned on getting into no trouble, but he didn’t exactly have flocks of options for friends at that point. 

Until, the door to the compartment slid open, and another boy of similar age stood in the frame, leaning against it dressed in a neat suit. His eyes drew from Remus to James, and back again. They were a cold grey-brown, way too calculating for a boy of probably age eleven or so. “Can I sit here?” he asked slowly, politely. Remus caught James raise his eyes at such politeness from a young boy, but ignored it and nodded. The boy sat beside him, but down the other side of the seat. “You're a Potter, are you not?”

The tawny haired boy blinked at the newcomer, who similarly to James had extremely dark hair, but skin as white as snow to contrast Potters tanned face. He was also much neater and very clearly upper class. James was clad in a sweater too big for his little body, and dark trousers, all of which was slightly torn in places, mud on the knees. The other boy didn’t have a speck of dust on him. “You’re a Black, are you not?” James’ tone was ever so lightly laced with hostility. Remus was unaware of any of these names. 

“Sirius Black.” The air in the compartment was tense. “Its nice to meet you. I heard your dad was Quidditch captain once, right? Thats cool.” Sirius smiled, and although it was still weirdly restricted, it was his most genuine expression yet. “Dont worry, I’m not… not like my folks. I know they can be intense.” James laughed a little, but his body relaxed to how it was before, no more tense weariness visible. Remus put his Standard Book of Spells to his other side, guessing that there wouldn’t be all too much reading in the train ride after all.

“Intense? Mate, I don't wanna offend you but… some of the rumours are…”

“Borderline serial killer-y?” Sirius laughed along with James, and leant forward to shrug his jacket off. He then shuffled around more, awkwardly with his too long limbs, and untucked his shirt. He loosened his tie so the knot was below his collar and sat back. “Cant say they’re too wrong, honestly. Weird lot they are. But I made a vow to myself to never be as much of a stick in the mud as my mum or any of the others.” He grinned, shiny white teeth making him seem nothing short of the same brand of trouble maker as the one opposite. 

A gentle knock interrupted whatever Sirius prosed his mouth to say, and all three young boys turned to see another, blonde haired and short, stood shyly in the door, pulling at his sleeves. “Sorry. There's no where else to sit, is it okay?” He asked quietly, voice high like a mouse. His hair was wavy, not quite as much as a curled mess as James, but considerably noticeable next to Sirius’ dead straight. His eyes were a bright blue, and his face was chubby in a young boy kind of way. Remus guessed they were about the same height, both a fair bit smaller than Black or Potter, but whilst he was frail and thin in a malnourished lycanthrope way, this young boy was stout. 

“‘Course mate!” James grinned, and shuffled over from the place nearest to the door, to closer by the window. The blonde boy thanked him and sat down, nodding to each of them. “I’m James. This here is Sirius and Remus, just met ‘em. Who’re you?”

The boy smiled to each of them, once again, and stuttered out a reply. “P-peter Pettigrew. Nice to meet you all.”

“Well, Peter Pettigrew,” James leant forward onto his knees. “What house are you hopin’ to be in? And you two.” Remus looked away from staring distantly into the blurring view of the edge of London. He hadn’t thought too much about it, he didn’t even know much about the respective four houses of Hogwarts at all. He knew there was a yearly House Cup, and he understood how the house points worked through Quidditch games and awarding, and he understood placement in houses was decided on a persons traits. 

His father had been Gryffindor: brave and courageous, with a mascot of a lion and colours of scarlet red and brazen gold. Remus didn’t really see himself as any of those things, but he was aware most of the pureblood Lupin family had been the same. 

“Its no secret all my family are Slytherin.” Sirius said glumly. Remus knew barely anything of the green and silver branded house, other than it produced numbers of dark witches and wizards like no other. “I’m not going to be. I won’t be. I don't care where I end up as long as it's not there.” Sirius pulled a face, disgusted and annoyed simply at the idea of it. Remus wasn’t a bad person though, he knew that just because it factually did produce a high number of dark witches and wizards, so did Gryffindor. He was positive that Slytherin had some positive traits, but he would be inclined to be in probably any other house.

“My whole family is Gryffindor. I will be too.” James smiled brightly, proud and definitely suiting the traits. Remus knew without a doubt that the messy haired boy would get in. He racked his brain for the main traits of the other two houses. Ravenclaw, as far as he could remember, values intelligence, wisdom, wit and learning. That left Hufflepuff, who favoured loyalty and friendship. 

“I think I’ll be Ravenclaw.” Remus stated, unsurely. “I don't really know too much about them, but I know the basics. I think it suits me best. I’m not sure.” Sirius raised his eyebrows and James made a noise of surprise.

“Are you muggleborn?” Sirius asked, his snow white face turning a very light shade of pink, and Remus wondered why he’d ever be embarrassed about that, about someone else’s blood status. He shook his head, gently pulling his wand out of his pocket and turning it over in his hands. He didn’t really want to talk about his parents. 

“My fathers a wizard, he was in Gryffindor. My mum… she was a muggle. I’ve grown up around magic though, I just didn’t think Hogwarts was an option for me until…” He trailed off, thinking about Albus Dumbledore sat at his kitchen table in Staveley, which looked so different even from the open country the train was passing through. It was greener at his home, and it smelled like flowers and apples even if you were in a dusty cupboard. The trees they passed through were darker, the leaves orange and brown, and the fields were muddied and dim. Life in little Staveley glowed. Remus already felt homesick. 

“Until what?” Peter asked.

“Dumbledore visited me. My father had sent an owl, telling him I wouldn’t be attending. But apparently he didn’t like that, because a week after Dumbledore was at the door of my cottage in the middle of nowhere, and sat down to had tea with me when my dad was at work. It was so weird, but he explained some things, convinced me. When my dad got back he convinced him too, which I never thought would happen.” Remus laughed slightly at the odd memory. It was kind of ridiculous, and clearly the boys around him thought so too.

“Dumbledore had tea with you?” James said incredulously, his mouth gaping open. 

“Why wouldn’t you come to Hogwarts?” Sirius asked, timidly. Remus bit back his tongue. Dumbledore had come up with a few excuses to make to certain teachers for his monthly disappearances, but he hadn’t settled on one that he thought his classmates might believe. It was a problem for his future self, all he had to worry about in the moment was how he’d change into his robes before their arrival at Hogwarts. He shrugged simply in reply to Sirius, who’s polite attitude took that as enough to drop the subject. 

“What about you, Peter?” Remus quickly switched the subject back. “Where do you think you’ll be placed?”

Peter looked thoughtful for a second. “Not Slytherin, thats for sure. I’m uh… not very smart either. I think probably Hufflepuff?” He smiled, all shy and embarrassed. No point in faking bravery when it would all be determined for them in mere hours. All the boys seemed happy with that, and quickly fell into a heated discussion about Quidditch. Remus was enthralled by it: he’d seen a game or two in his lifetime, and read plenty about it. He wasn’t particularly athletic himself, but the sport was for sure attention grabbing and interesting. Peter was the same, just slightly less passionate. James and Sirius, however, were extremely deterministic toward the game, both enthusing that they’d be placed on the team as soon as they could make it, discussing positions they liked to play and when the first game might be.

Peter leaned over to Remus, a grin on his face. “Pureblood's and their huge families, am I right? I can’t imagine growing up allowed to fly around on a broom.” Remus just laughed in response, and tuned their conversation into white noise again, glancing out into the blur of faded green and brown. 

The ride went quickly: too quickly. Leaving home didn’t feel real until Remus stepped off the train onto the platform and glanced around to views he didn’t know and the looming sight of Hogwarts on the hills.


End file.
